


Heroes Don't Cry

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 13:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dirk grows closer and you hate that he can see you like this. Even though Dirk has seen you past your facade of badassery and indulged in your more dippy nature you don't want him to see this. You don't. You don't want him to see you so afraid and so weak." </p><p>Jake is succumbing to the cruel and demonic force seeking to take him over, and Dirk only has one option to stop it and save the session. Even if it comes at the price of losing his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroes Don't Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Well, funny enough I wrote this last night after the update! Which is odd, because I was rather happy but this....is mind-numbingly sad. Huh.
> 
> Anyway, while I am glad that Jake might sort of maybe have feelings for Dirk, I can't help also thinking this poor ship isn't going to end well. And I've seen a lot of Lord English!Jake art and fic going around. Though others have kind of portrayed Jake as being really stoic and brave even in the face of his own demise/corruption and....well, seeing as recent updates have shown him to be a bit more of a dorky lil kid, I kind of wanted to write it in a different way, with him being scared shitless and all. So uh yeah. 
> 
> Warnings for everything you might expect when it comes to someone changing into an interdimensional demon.

 

 

You're no hero. 

Dirk is. You're not. 

If you were a hero you wouldn't be on your knees on a nameless battlefield, weighed down by another presence inside your body that's slowly creeping up, slowly starting to take over and tear a hole in your consciousness through which it will emerged like some nightmarish butterfly. 

Already your arm and part of your leg is start to change, veins bulging out thick and bright emerald green and it _hurts_ , and you're crying. You're crying and you _hate_ it. 

Heroes don't cry. They _don't_ \--they're strong and stoic even in the face of adversity and certain death. 

But you're crying. You're crying and shaking and wailing. 

You're no hero. 

You sob and shake with your head bowed to the ground until there's a crunch of the dirt around you and you manage to weakly crane your neck up to see. 

Dirk is there, suddenly, and you're sure you must look terribly pathetic to him. 

Another spasm surges through your body, head jerking back for a moment as your arm twists on the elbow, continuing its progression and transformation into an eldritch form. Your body seizes for a couple of seconds and you bite through your tongue and you're pretty sure you've just pissed yourself but even that humiliation can't temper your fear. A loud sob tears through your chest when the spasming finally stops, but it leaves you shaking with even more tears coursing down your cheeks. 

Dirk is watching you, but you can barely see him through the cloud of pain. He's wearing that maroon outfit of his, hood off and trailing behind him. After the next wave of spasms your vision blacks more and all you can see are his hair and his eyes and the pink crest emblazoned on his chest. 

And the shine of his sword. You can see the shine of his sword curved through the hazy dark like a sickle. Or a surgeon's knife. 

Dirk grows closer and you hate that he can see you like this. Even though Dirk has seen you past your facade of badassery and indulged in your more dippy nature you don't want him to see this. You don't. You don't want him to see you so afraid and so weak. 

"P-Please, it--" Your body shakes, wracked with sobs. "P-Please, oh God, oh _God_ it hurts don't--"

You're not sure what to say next. 

 _Don't let it go through_ would be the noble response, would be the way to go out like a hero would--self sacrifice. Jake English, martyr and savior of the universe. They would erect a monument to you and wax eloquent tales about your bravery and selflessness. Then you would be a hero. Despite all your failings, despite all your tears and weaknesses you would still be a hero at the very end. 

But a stronger, more human part of your speaks louder, even though you hate yourself for it.

 _Don't kill me_. 

The thought makes you cry louder and harder because it makes you feel so pathetic. 

You're a coward. You're a coward and you don't _want_ to die. 

 You start whispering it at first, and you hear Dirk reply with the soft sound of your name but that only galvanizes your panic more. Dirk's tone sounds too much like a movie doctor breaking the news to a terminally ill starlet and it makes you start to hyperventilate. 

"P-Please, p-please oh, oh G-God, Dirk, please don't…. _Don't kill me_!"

You repeat over and over again to him, tears streaming down your face from the pain and the frustrating agony of your own pathetic selfishness. Blood dribbles down from your bleeding tongue and makes it harder and harder to talk but still you beg to Dirk, plead to every inch of his human decency to let you _live, oh please, you want to live._

 

\-----------------------

 

You hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected this at all.

You hadn't heard from Jake in awhile. Pestering him didn't do a lick of good, so you had transported yourself to his planet. And after a couple of hours of scouring you had found him, laying amongst a waste of slain imps and ogres with black blood soaking into his shoes and his arm distorted bright and sick green. 

 _No._ Your stomach twists. _No, no fuck no this can't be--this can't be happening._

He looks up at you when you land, your feet crunching into the blood-streaked soil as you step towards him. Your mind is going a mile a minute, trying to think, trying to figure out _what_ you should do. You don't voice your thoughts aloud, but Jake starts babbling the moment he sees you with your sword, and it takes you a few seconds to realize what he is saying.  

Jake is begging you, his eyes red-rimmed and filed with tears that splash down his grimy cheeks. He is pleading with you not to kill him. 

The feeling of horror and sadness curdles thicker in your stomach because you _can't_. You can't kill Jake. This game was taking everything from you and you can't kill Jake but you _have_ to because it's your fault he's like this. There's nothing else you can do.  

Jake trusted you. He trusted you and you were stupid and you fucked up. You fucked up and now Jake has to pay for him and damn it--he _trusted_ you. He still trusts you. He wouldn't be sobbing and begging you if he didn't believe that there was something that could be moved within you to not kill him. 

_Destroyer of souls is an apt title in more ways than one._

 You grip the hand of your sword. It needs to be quick. It needs to be quick, before Jake realizes entirely what you are doing, before he understand how you are betraying him. Even if it's for the good of the universe, you are ignoring his tears and his screams and his pleas. 

_Strider, don't you dare kill me!_

He is terrified. You can hear it in his voice, you can see it in his stance and his face, you can feel it as his screams and desperation tears through your skin and strikes you deep in the heart. It hurts. It hurts to see him like this.  

Veins are creeping up Jake's neck. They pulse radioactive green, carrying some sick infection up to the brain with the intent to eclipse everything that Jake is. It won't get the chance. His left sclera is turning yellow. 

"Jake…" You speak softly, trying to soothe him, but he only sobs and begs louder. You're pretty sure he knows what has to happen but he's just scared. He's scared, and you feel the need to calm him down a bit because it _hurts_ you to see him like this. 

So you smile at him, and no, not any kind of stoic, ironic fashion. You give him a genuine smile, not from ear to ear because you can't quite manage it with what you're steeling yourself to do, but for Jake you try. And his eyes widen and for the moment he stops crying and then he looks relieved, and returns your smile. It's shaky and unsure but it's there, and by the looks of it you think that he really believes that you've found another way out of this. He trusts you. 

And then you flash-step forward, hook an arm around his neck, and stab him through the chest. 

 Jake doesn't scream, doesn't cry out. It's way too fast for that. Just like you had wanted it to be. His head falls limp against your shoulder and as you look down at him you think he's still alive even as his heart is torn open and bleeding. His skin still looks warm and flush and his eyes are flitting a bit as they look up to you, confused. You look down at him, your heart folding in on itself as Jake spits up a mouthful of blood and closes his eyes. 

When his body goes completely still you finally give in and just hold him, after you fling your bloodied sword to the side. He's still relatively warm against you as you pull him closer, cradling him in your arms. There's still a touch of a trusting grin on his face and oh _God_ it hurts. You can't help the tears that begin to creep down your cheeks and you hold him tight and bury your face in his chest and quietly sob. 

You are Dirk Strider, Prince of Heart, and you've just saved the universe. 

But you're no hero. 


End file.
